Drawn to Life: Rewrite
by pineappleperson
Summary: My friend wrote this and i thought you guys should read. Moves from K  to T so rated T for safety.
1. Prologue

There are many stories to be told. Many like this one. Stories of a cursed land, for years under the threat of destruction at the hands of a greedy of a hero rising, the one being who can end the grief and fear, the one who was drawn to life by a powerful hand. This is just one of those stories. But this one is also special. It is the story of the Raposa, who, like that one hero, were drawn into existence…

But before there was that world, that land, those creatures, that darkness, there was a book. A book that looked like any other – full of creativity and knowledge. But this book was the design of that hand – the design of the Creator. Into this book, he let the ink of creation itself fall, and the world was drawn. The world was populated with forests, oceans, flowing rivers, mountains, living creatures. And then finally the Raposa themselves, with their higher intelligence, upright bodies, shining golden fur, and eyesand long, sensitive ears. It was a book full of living. And so it became the Book of Life.

For centuries, millennia, the Raposa lived in prosperity, with each other and all of nature, raising families and building peaceful villages. Into every village the Creator placed a flame, a flame that would never cease to burn, that would protect the inhabitants.

But a world is seldom born without that hidden wickedness, waiting to pounce.

Many of millennia had passed since the Creator had designed the world. It was then that an ordinary Raposa rose out. And that was all it took. The darkness in his heart spread throughout his entire form, engulfing him. And he committed a crime that the Creator could not bear. Eternal Darkness spread across the surface of all the lands, a darkness which would slowly, slowly, crept in. The Creator did not care, after what one of his own creations had done. He abandoned the world, and the Raposa to their doom. Over several years, the corrupted would sabotage the lands, taking the innocent, and destroying any who defied them.

Maybe, one day, the Creator would return, and that legendary hero that most had given up hoping for, would come. and end the reign of terror. Maybe they would. But maybe they would not.

It would have seemed like the end. But it was only the beginning of a war. A war whose results would decide the fate of an entire world…


	2. Prayer

_Creator, we need you. You are the only hope we have left. You love us, no matter what was done in the past. It was not any of us. We are innocent. We don't want to die. But we will if you don't come back. The Eternal Flame won't last much longer – and the darkness is creeping in. You are the creator of everything! This is your world. I know you care about it. I am one of the last to remain in this village. Surely you've seen what has been happening to the world for years. You mustn't let the world end, not yours._

_Help us! Please!_

_This will be the last time I pray these words, for I know he's coming. He's coming!_

Mari stood in the dark room of her house. It was deathly quiet. The only sound was the quiet howling of icy wind outside. That was nothing new or frightening. The snow had been there for eleven years, appearing only days after…

She shook her head, trying not to think about it. The prayer she had spoken still seemed to hang in the air, as if it did not want to leave the house. She had spoken it, every day without exception as a last attempt to speak to the Creator, and by now, she had memorised it entirely. But there had never been an answer, and today was the last chance she would have.

The room was cold. The silky night dress did little to stop the chill. The fine fur lining her cat-like face was bristled slightly. Her long ears were perked, waiting for the smallest sound that would tell her she had been heard.

Nothing.

Several emotions then chased each other around in her: fear, grief, despair, and a terrible, burning anger.

'Why don't you respond?' she cried. 'I know you're there. How can you just do nothing and be silent?' Angry tears began burning in her eyes. Suddenly it was as if yelling had taken all her strength. The anger died, leaving just dull hopelessness.

Song. A voice. A female's. Mari froze. Just a few notes, small and quiet, but seeming loud and strong enough to shake the earth. Happy, sad, joyful and haunting all at the same time. And so beautiful that fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She seemed to remember another time when the divine voice had come to her, many years ago. She had told herself many times before that it was only her imagination, but here it was again, both in her mind and all through the room. It wasn't the voice of the Creator, but something else. And every time she thought about it, another thought crossed her mind. Of something inside the huge sealed building that was just up the hill.

Then it stopped. Mari stood, mesmerised. Once again the room was still. And then another voice penetrated the silence.

_I will help._

Three words, so simple, but perhaps the most wonderful in the world.

The spiritual voice continued on. _I have heard your cries and will provide a single saviour to lead this world out of the darkness that has engulfed it._

Mari listened, the despair that had hung over her like a cloud now melting away, her heart was swelling with relief and pure joy. It was like waking up from a nightmare to a bright, sunny day. The Creator had finally spoken, after all these years. Somehow, she had known that he would never abandon his own creations and entire world to a terrible demise. Her tears had dried on her face.

_Gather the remaining villagers, and lead them to Creation Hall. There you will find the object and answer to your prayers._

With that, silence once again fell, and Mari was left standing alone in the room. She was shivering in the bitter cold that whistled through any crevices in the stone walls and roof. She didn't even notice. A smile that was as radiant as the sun, which had not existed in the dead skies for over a decade, shone on her lips. Creation Hall, the huge building on the hill and location, she was sure, of the source of the ominous female voice, had been sealed by the Creator, after – the incident, with one Raposa, just before the Creator abandoned the world. The building had been ignored for years, standing like a great carved statue on the hill, overlooking the village as if waiting for someone to once again acknowledge it.

Mari moved to the dressing table across from the four-poster bed. Like most of the furniture in her home they were both intricately carved, with delicate engravings running along the edges. One of the things about being the mayor's daughter was wealth. Although she had never cared for money, it was pointless anyway, since there was hardly any village left, let alone villagers. She stared into her reflection in the mirror and realised for the first time how exhausted and bedraggled she looked. She had been up all night. Even though there was no longer day or night, she could tell that she should have settled to rest hours ago. She sighed. Sixteen years she had lived, and eleven had been wasted, cowering in a slowly fading land, waiting for the end.

Her father was her only parent she had left. Her mother had died in the disaster eleven years ago. Five years old she was. She could barely remember her mother. For a moment, grief threatened to creep back on her, but she turned the thought away.

Hastily running a brush through her long brown hair and throwing on a warm dress and thick coat she hurried out the door, her furry feet sinking into the thick blanket of snow, heading for the first villager she would notify of the Creator's orders: her best friend, Jowee. Jowee was Mari's age. He could always be relied upon to make her laugh, and was her closest friend, but it was possible that the village had never known a more chattery, troublesome, reckless nuisance. But as she trudged up to his house, she felt a pang of sympathy for him. Her mother had died – it must have been twice as terrible for him. Both his parents had been killed when he, too was five years old.

Her father had done all he could for the little boy: trying to find adoptive parents. Over a few years many child loving couples and singles had taken care of Jowee. But since the absence of normal parents had made him – manage his life in his own way, it never ended well. She remembered one time when two single, relatively young females, Kita and Pip, had become Jowee's newest guardians, taking their little dog, Poshy, along with them. A few days later, Mari's father was signing documents at his office will she played quietly in the corner, when they both heard the sound of running and screaming, coming closer. Moments later, Kita and Pip burst through the door, tears of grief and terror running down their faces. They seemed to be having difficulty breathing.

'What is this, you two?' the mayor demanded, annoyed at having his work disturbed.

'Poshy…that…little monster…he…our…Poshy…baby' they stammered, sobbing. They swayed for a moment, then fainted, their bodies hitting the wooden floor with a thump.

'Oh, Poshy!' little Mari exclaimed, who had taking quite a liking to the cute little pup. The mayor rose sharply out of his chair and stomped to the door with Mari close behind, leaving Kita where she lay.

When they reached Jowee's house, they could hear a gleeful voice and the sound of the bed rhythmically creaking as a small body jumped continuously on it upstairs.

'Watch out, Kita and Pip,' the voice yelled. 'YOU'RE NEXT!'

The two stomped up the stairs, the mayor's face a mask of frustration and Mari, worried about what had happened to Poshy, and keen to see Jowee get what was coming to him. They walked into the bedroom, and a chewed bone was thrown against the wall right next to them. Jowee was laughing, jumping on the bed. He hadn't noticed he'd just been caught. In the fireplace was a small pot over a blazing fire. Jowee tossed a piece of cooked meat into the air, which was also smothered in ice cream and chocolate and, still jumping, caught it in his mouth. When he turned his head and saw the two standing at the door with their hands on their hips, however, the big grin dropped immediately.

'I was, er, hungry,' Jowee stopped jumping and put his hands behind his back innocently.

'Oh, now I see. So I suppose that makes it perfectly fine to scare your own guardians half to death,' the mayor snapped. Mari covered her mouth with her hand to hide a giggle, rather enjoying this.

'Well, yeah!' Jowee grinned.

'Don't you give me that attitude young man! You have three seconds to bring that dog out!' hissed Mari's father, fuming with anger.

Jowee jerked his thumb at the pot over the fire.

'That is not dog meat. I can't believe Kita did not realise it,' the mayor shook his head hopelessly. Mari didn't understand why he didn't completely explode. If Jowee had done something like this to her, she would have – she didn't know herself what she would do.

'How do you know what dog meat looks and smells like?' Jowee demanded. 'Something tells me that you've got a dirty secret, Mr Mayor.'

Before her father could say any more, there was a playful yapping, and a small brown and white dog can running out from under the bed and jumped up onto Jowee. He fell down, laughing and cuddling the little creature.

'Nice work, Poshy!' he grinned, rubbing her small head. 'It worked!'

The Mayor was glaring. 'Jowee. Why do you hate every person who comes to take care of you?'

'Who said I hated them? I like them very much! I never mean for them to go. It was just a little trick. It was actually the leftover dinner we had last night. Kita and Pip have got no sense of humour.'


	3. Last Hope

2

Last Hope

Mari smiled to herself as she remembered the trouble Jowee managed to get himself into, before realising that she had reached her friend's house. Now, he lived by himself. She hurried to stand under the doorway, trying to shelter from the icy weather, and knocking loudly. There was no answer. She called his name several times until her strong ears picked up the sound of someone moaning sleepily upstairs.

Jowee lay sprawled over the bed, snoring, not even have being bothered to pull the covers over him.

'Nice beard, old man,' he mumbled. 'Dude, drop your weapon and get on the ground.'

But then, his ears twitched as the sound of someone calling him disturbed his nap. Still grumbling, he opened his eyes, and left the room, thumping heavily down the stairs and opening the front door, revealing Mari standing on the doorstep, her blue coat wrapped tightly around her.

'Jowee, I have to tell you –'

'Can't you see I'm in the middle of a stick up?' he snapped, his eyes dropping, his hair even messier than usual.

'No I can't see that,' she flashed back. 'And I need to tell you something.'

'Yes I know. Bye.' He started to shut the door. Mari shoved out her hand and stopped it. She raised her eyebrow at Jowee through the space between the door and the wall. Slowly, with a roll of the eyes, he reopened the door.

'Speak,' he droned.

Pleased he had decided to listen, Mari let the words tumble out of her mouth. 'I just spoke to the Creator. He told me to gather the remaining villages and bring them to Creation Hall. Where's my dad?'

He just stared. He blinked a few times, and then smiled sweetly. 'Would you excuse me?' Hurriedly he slammed the door and Mari heard him sprinting full speed up the stairs.

Jowee flung open the door to his room and pulled a pack out of the wardrobe, along with a random handful of clothes. Throwing the pack on the bed, he began shoving the clothes into it. Either she was looking for a good laugh, which she failed at, or the place had finally pushed her into the deep end. He should just take his chances getting past the darkness and out of the village. After all, life in an almost enclosed ruined town bored him. He longed for that great unknown, that running wild, that… Shoving his head to clear it, he shoved forcefully at the contents of the pack, trying to get them to fit. When they stubbornly refused, he leapt into the air and let his entire body fall onto the bag.

'Fit!' he growled impatiently. When the last of the clothing had been jammed inside, he pulled the bag shut. Panting triumphantly, he didn't even think about how he would get everything out again. It was then that he noticed something he'd forgotten to pack on the bedside table. His shoulders slumped and he stared with his eyebrows raised and his moth pressed in a hard line to stop the stream of language that was trying to beat its way out.

He picked up the object, and his irritation died as he stared at the picture frame of his parents. He felt his mouth turning down at the edges. He carefully placed the picture back on the desk and kicked the overfull pack under the bed. He'd stay here for now.

Jowee turned to face the wall and looked at the large piece of paper he'd stuck to the wall. It had a big splash of black paint on it and an ugly face scrawled in white. In big black writing next to it he'd scribbled, "I'm a Shadow, and I SUCK!" Darts were dotted here and there on it.

"Shut up, blackhead" he spat, and then an idea came to him. He jumped onto the skateboard which lay on the floor, sped over to the desk in the corner and grabbed up a handful of red pins.

Downstairs, Mari was tapping her foot. What was he doing up there? Obviously, by the amount of noise he'd been making, it was something that was typical of Jowee.

'I'm still down here, you know,' she yelled up at the house. 'I can stand here all day.

'Are you offering?'

'NO!'

'Fine.' That was followed, finally, of Jowee hurrying down the stairs. 'Blackhead now has acne,' he grinned, slapping his favourite item onto his head: a pair of large, bright blue goggles she never saw him without.

'Are you finished? I've been waiting down here for ten minutes. Now, where's my dad?' Mari was itching to get to Creation Hall, and time was just being wasted.

'I'm pretty sure he said something about the village entrance.'

'Come on then,' Mari exclaimed urgently. She sprinted off, through the fog, toward the entrance gate.

'We've had enough. The darkness has been relentless, and now our shop has been swallowed!' Isaac the village shopkeeper fumed at the mayor, who was looking at him with a heavy heart. Isaac's hand clasped Mya's, his wife's, whose golden eyes were shadowed with sadness and fear.

'And now our daughter is gone!' she cried. 'Our little Cindi is gone! We have to find her. She's been missing for hours!' She clung to her husband and he put his arm around her, as if to protect her.

'I understand, both of you,' the mayor said sympathetically. 'But you should stay. You are unsafe out there, mark my words. _He _will find you. He dares you to leave, so you're unprotected. That's why he left the gate uncovered.'

Isaac stepped forward, his face ablaze with anger at such a response. 'This cannot wait any longer. We're leaving. Come Mya.' And with that, they turned on their heels and walked out of the village, the mayor watching helplessly. Thin wisps of darkness seemed to reach out like cold fingers to float around them as they walked passed it, shuddering.

'Dad!'

The cry stopped the mayor in his tracks. He turned and saw Mari and Jowee hurrying towards him. The sight of others strangely comforted him. He greeted them with a smile, but was aware that it looked more like a grimace.

'Mari. Jowee. My fears have come to pass. We are the last remaining in this accursed place. Isaac and Mya's daughter went missing a few hours ago. Lost her way in the fog no doubt.'

'Cindi,' Mari stated grimly. The thought of the little girl lost somewhere in that fog, with darkness and hidden perils at every turn, was disturbing. But the thought was pushed away as she remembered why she was here with her father. She told the mayor of what she had heard in her house, about the Creators orders. The mayor listened, but, to her dismay, saw the anxiety and frustration creep into his eyes that was always there when she bought up the subject. He shook his head.

'Young lady, you have been bothering me with this talk of the Creator for months on end. I want you to let it go. There are more important things to attend to.'

Mari looked at her father with a look of horror. To say something like that was treason, traitorous!

'You – you can't be serious! The Creator is the one who _designed _us! He loves us! You cannot possibly mean that anything could ever be more important!'

'I'm with Mari,' said another voice. Mari had almost forgotten Jowee was with them. She nodded at him, wanting him to say more. 'We should at least give the Creator a chance!' he continued.

Suddenly, the mayor dropped his tolerable manner, and a savage growl escaped his clenched canines. 'Unlike the Creator did,' he hissed at both of them. '_He _never gave _us _a chance.' Now he was speaking directly to Mari. 'Stop with this nonsense!'

'Dad, it's true!' Mari pleaded desperately. 'The Creator is the last hope we have left!' It was vital that he listened, had sense knocked into him. Surely he didn't believe that the Creator did not care about them. Surely! But in her heart, she knew that that was exactly what her father believed. He would leave the village, blindly following Isaac's example. He would never last long out there without being caught. He couldn't even walk properly. The old, twisted cane he used as a second leg to replace his real one was the only thing stopping him from falling to the ground.

But, like she had feared, her father would not here of it. With a final glare, he turned, and limped out of the village, through the thick fog, into the unknown.

Leaving Mari and Jowee, the last of the villagers, standing in the freezing snow.


End file.
